London-Nairobi

I’m looking around the plane, and I could be on a flight from Columbus to Dubuque. What the hell are all these people doing going to Nairobi? I can see, in my field of vision, at least a dozen people waaay wimpier than me. And yet. My most intrepid colleague, who’s been to Africa, oh, fifty times, wrote me the following actual note: “Bon Voyage. Don’t drink the water, wash your hands, don’t eat anything you can’t peel or isn’t cooked, no ice, don’t make eye contact.” She forgot to tell me not to drink the blood from the neck of a live cow, so maybe that’s still an option, as long as I don’t look the cow in the eye.

I’m a New Yorker! I wandered the streets during the Abe Beame administration and lived to tell about it. I survived the blackout of ’77. That place was a hellhole, and I did fine, and I was twelve.

On the other other hand, while my guidebook says moderately nice things about my hotel, it nevertheless cautions “under no circumstances should you leave your hotel at night.” Oh, goody. I’ll bet you Keflavik doesn’t have these kinds of problems.
And so I embark upon a journey that would make a Japanese tourist tired. It goes like this:

Monday – Nairobi, Kenya
Tuesday – Kampala, Uganda
Wed-Fri – Kigali, Rwanda
Sat-Tues – Cape Town, South Africa
Wed – Durban, South Africa
Thursday – Johannesburg, South Africa
Thursday night – Leave
Friday – arrive at home and plotz

The goal of this ridiculous cram session? Learn as much about what we do in Africa in as little time as possible. I’ve been warned that this will be no cakewalk. Tomorrow we will visit one of the worst slums in Nairobi, called Korogocho, and observe how our grantees are assessing the health needs of some of the poorest people in the world. Part of my goal is to document the work – talk to people, shoot video, take photos, and tell meaningful stories about what the problems are and how we think we can help to solve them.

I’ve never been so excited and so intimidated by a trip in my life. Wish me luck.


Flying over the Sahara – that, my friends, is a big damn desert.